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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26506234">Open Hand or Closed Fist Would Be Fine</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotTotallyReal/pseuds/NotTotallyReal'>NotTotallyReal</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, But fluff!, Crowley has some insecurity and low self worth problems, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, No Smut, Other, but not in this fic sorry, can be read as asexual, im so bad at tags, personally i think they have sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 13:29:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,474</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26506234</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotTotallyReal/pseuds/NotTotallyReal</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley has a nightmare about the bookshop burning and Aziraphale being gone. Aziraphale comes to comfort him, and they have a serious talk that leads to Crowley getting what he needs: soft, sweet love. </p><p>I'm also bad at summaries, but basically this has a solid bit of angst in the beginning, talking through some issues, and then softness at the end.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale &amp; Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>62</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Open Hand or Closed Fist Would Be Fine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title is from Hozier's song "Cherry Wine." It's a really amazing song!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The bookshop is burning. Aziraphale is gone.</p><p>Smoke is everywhere. Flames destroy Aziraphale’s books, his pride and glory turning into ash. The sofa where Crowley has sprawled countless times is scorching, the tartan blanket at the foot burning brightly. </p><p>Aziraphale is gone.  </p><p>Crowley stumbles, stubbornly searching for his Angel amongst the toppling bookcases. Even though, from the first time he called for him and he was met with silence, he knows Aziraphale is gone.</p><p>Crowley falls to his knees, looking dazedly at the fire all around him. The flames, the crackling, the sulfur in the air, the smoke in his throat. It’s like Falling, except so much worse. When he Fell, the only thing Crowley lost was himself. Now, he’s lost his Angel. <em>AZIRAPHALE!</em></p><p>“Aziraphale!!!” Crowley screams.</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>Nothing but a bookcase toppling, books crashing to the ground with a sound that reverberates through Crowley’s skull. </p><p>Crowley’s eyes fly open, his entire body jackknifing as he sits up. He’s gasping, choking, from his own sobs and from the smoke he can still taste in the back of his mouth. </p><p>
  <em>It’s just a dream! It’s just a dream. Stop sobbing, shut up. Wait, where’s Aziraphale? Aziraphale! Aziraphale!</em>
</p><p>“Aziraphale!!” Crowley cries out, falling off the bed and lurching towards the door. Every bit of him is twitching, shuddering with adrenaline and fear and desperation. He falls while trying to turn the doorknob. Crowley manages to get the door open and crawls through the doorway, half-blind from tears. </p><p>Aziraphale is running up the stairs, full of concern and worry and <em>he’s here he’s here oh thank God he’s here. He’s not gone, he didn’t leave, he’s still here.</em></p><p>
  <em>Is he?? Oh no, oh please no. Please don’t be another nightmare, a trick, a torture from Hell. Aziraphale, please be real. Please!</em>
</p><p>Aziraphale rushes over, scooping Crowley up and maneuvering to sit back against the door with the demon in his arms. Crowley starts sobbing harder, from the warmth of Aziraphale’s arms, sturdy and real, tight around him. It’s an awkward position, to be sure, Crowley half-laying in Aziraphale’s lap. But that hardly matters. </p><p>Crowley’s hands are gripping Aziraphale’s shoulders as he buries his face in Aziraphale’s neck. It’s still not enough though, so Crowley pulls back to desperately run his hands over every bit of Aziraphale, bringing their foreheads together so Crowley can stare into the frantically worried eyes of his Angel.</p><p>“Crowley?? My dear, please, let’s go to the bed! What’s wrong, love? Crowley?!”</p><p>“No! Angel, angel, Aziraphale, no! Don’t leave me!” Crowley sobs. </p><p>“Leave you? No, Crowley, no! I’m not going to leave you! But we are going to the bed!”</p><p>Aziraphale tries to drag himself over and onto the bed, Crowley still clinging desperately and crying harder than either of them thought possible. </p><p>When Aziraphale raises his hand to snap his fingers and miracle them onto the bed, Crowley hiccups “No!” and grabs Aziraphale’s hand to hold it against his cheek. <em>No! He’s going to snap himself away! Don't let him go!!</em></p><p>Crowley is gasping harder for breath, his skinny torso heaving and heaving. <em>Oh no, oh no. I can’t stop this! I can’t control any of it!</em></p><p>Crowley starts dry-heaving, his legs thrashing about until he starts beating his foot against the floor in a steady rhythm to center himself. </p><p>Aziraphale rips his hand free and miracles them onto the bed. Crowley folds in on himself, mouth open as he takes in air he doesn't really need, but he can’t remember that fact at the moment. There’s nothing in his head but the overpowering sensation of his pulse thundering in every vein. Crowley starts shaking, his thin frame twitching and shivering violently. <em>I’m cold! So cold, so cold. </em></p><p>Crowley falls backwards onto the bed, pulling Aziraphale down with him. Aziraphale doesn't manage to catch himself in time and falls on top of Crowley. Crowley’s breath leaves him in a burst, and suddenly he remembers he doesn't need to breathe. But he still can’t hear over the sound of his pulse, sounding like it’s going to break through his skin.</p><p>Aziraphale tries to get up, but Crowley wraps his arms and legs around him to keep where he is. <em>He’s here, he’s here. He’s this weight on top of you, keeping you in this body, keeping you from Discorparating. He’s here. </em></p><p>In a jarring moment, Crowley can suddenly hear again. Aziraphale is muttering “Shh, shh Crowley. My love, my Crowley. Shh, shh. I’ve got you, you’re safe, love. I’m here, I’m here. I’m sorry, I’m sorry Crowley!”</p><p>Crowley pulls himself together and croaks “No, Angel. My fault, got carried away. Please! Just stay here a little longer. Please.”</p><p>Aziraphale hums in timid agreement, and wraps himself around Crowley as well, until they are so close, so close. Crowley can’t tell where he ends and Aziraphale begins, and for the first time since he woke up, he’s finally alright. He’s still cold though, and still getting occasional full body shivers that have him writhing in Aziraphale’s arms. </p><p>“C-cold, Angel. I’m so cold.” Crowley whispers as he squirms to try and become even closer. With a quick miracle, Aziraphale pulls all the sheets and blankets on the bed to cover them, making a cloth cave warmed with their body heat. Aziraphale closes his eyes to concentrate, and adds some divine warmth to the mix. It seems to work, as Crowley melts beneath him and finally, finally, stops shivering. </p><p>Crowley’s tongue, long and split at the end, darts out to scent the air as Crowley shifts under the angel.  <em>Ah, I smell Aziraphale. Sugar and spice and everything nice. He’s here. </em></p><p>Crowley closes his eyes and just basks in the sensations. There’s warmth everywhere, filling all the cold snakey parts of him. There’s a perfect weight atop him, pressing him down onto pillows and bedsheets that smell like Aziraphale. <em>It’s the weight of an Angel’s love. More than that, my angel’s love. </em></p><p>Crowley hisses softly in contentment and tries to snake himself impossibly closer to Aziraphale. It’s good, so perfect, absolutely goddamn wonderful until suddenly it isn’t. The weight is too much, it’s crushing him, he can’t breathe, he can’t move, it’s too much, too much!</p><p>Crowley pushes Aziraphale and all the covers off of him, breathes deeply and then turns to Aziraphale laying on the bed beside him. </p><p>“Sorry, sorry. It’s just too much, Angel.”</p><p>“Oh, um, okay, dear. W-what happened, Crowley?”</p><p>“Erngh, nothing, Aziraphale. ‘M sorry for all the bother.”</p><p>“Well, my dear, something must have happened,” responds Aziraphale, a bit miffed, to tell the truth. “Do you want to talk about it, love?”</p><p>“Nah, Angel.” Crowley shrugs. Nothing happened, nothing, it’s fine, nothing, I’m nothing, really it’s fine. </p><p>“Crowley. Please, my dear boy, talk to me.”</p><p>
  <em>Ugh. Damn you and your insufferable love and affection. Drop it, please! Drop it!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I’m sorry, Angel. Not your fault that you’re too bloody perfect.</em>
</p><p>Crowley starts drumming his fingers against his narrow thigh. Pinky, ring finger, middle finger, pointer finger, thumb, pink, ring finger, middle finger, pointer finger, thumb, pinky, ring finger. </p><p>“Crowley?” Aziraphale leans forward and tilts his head. “Crowley? I’m worried, dear.”</p><p>Crowley barks out a hoarse laugh. “About me? ‘M a demon; I think I can take care of myself.”</p><p>
  <em>Quick, seduce him before you start talking. Make him forget what happened. Better hurry, though. </em>
</p><p>Crowley crawls over to Aziraphale and arches up to whisper in his ear, “Bessssidessss, Angel. Wouldn't you rather let me take care of you?”  </p><p>Crowley kisses him hard and fast before he can respond. His hands are everywhere, strong and sure. <em>Get your fangs out. Pin him down, gently, gently. Hiss in his ear, growl against his throat. </em></p><p>It seems like it’s working when Crowley pulls back to assess the effect and sees Aziraphale’s hazy eyes and slightly parted mouth. But then Aziraphale focuses on Crowley’s face and he suddenly looks really worried again. <em>Shit, shit! The tear marks! Fucking hell. </em></p><p>Aziraphale reaches out a hand and whispers “Crowley?” His voice is soft, his eyes pleading. It’s everything Crowley needs, Aziraphale reaching for him because he cares. It’s nothing Crowley wants, fucked up mess of a demon that he is. It’s everything Crowley wants. He can’t let himself want it. </p><p>Crowley goes completely still, mind racing behind his frozen stare. <em>Aziraphale, Aziraphale, I’m sorry, sorry I’m broken. Angel, Angel, fix me. </em></p><p>Aziraphale slowly cups Crowley’s cheeks, holding Crowley’s face in his hands. He wipes away the tears that are silently streaming from his serpentine eyes. <em>I’m sorry, Angel. Sorry that you have to deal with this, deal with me. Please, help me. You’re the only one who can. </em></p><p>What can Crowley do, but crumble under the weight of the love in Aziraphale’s eyes? <em>I’m not a demon, and I can sense that. Love for me. Love for me!</em></p><p>“I-I dreamt you were gone, Angel. The bookshop was burning and you weren’t there. And I knew, I knew you had left. Left me behind. An-and when I woke up, you weren’t there. I thought you were gone, Aziraphale. I thought you were gone.” Crowley whispers his confession, eyes locked on Aziraphale’s, begging him to understand. </p><p>Aziraphale pulls him against his chest, his arms secure and soothing on Crowley’s back. </p><p>It’s much too good for him so Crowley pulls away.</p><p>He clears his throat and stares at his hands.</p><p>He scratches his scalp and avoids eye contact. </p><p>“Crowley?”</p><p>“Yes, Angel?”</p><p>“Dear, why did you become so, uh...tempting with me, Crowley? Were you trying to make me forget what happened? Because you don’t need to do that, love. I’m here for you, for your nightmares. I’m more than happy to be here and comfort you, Crowley. Why did you feel the need to become so seductive?”</p><p>Crowley blinks and stares uncomprehendingly at his angel. “Because that’s what you like.”</p><p>“Well, that’s beside the point. What do you like?”</p><p>Crowley blinks again. He breaks eye contact and looks down muttering “It’s not important. Not what I’m here for.”</p><p>“Crowley, please speak up. What did you say?”</p><p>“It’s nothing, Angel. Not important.”</p><p>“Well it is important, Crowley, important to me. What you want, what you like, that’s very important. Tell me, love.”</p><p>“No, really, Aziraphale. Please let’s just forget about this, eh? Let’s...errr... go for a walk? Yeah, a stroll through the park. Sound good?”</p><p>“No, Crowley. Absolutely not. We are partners, dear. We need to talk about this sort of thing. You shouldn’t be doing everything. Please, love, tell me about it.”</p><p>Crowley scoffs and steadfastly evades eye contact. But he can’t for long, drawn to those beautiful blue eyes like the love drunk fool he is. And of course, Aziraphale is giving him that bloody puppy dog pout that never fails. <em>Damn it, Angel. You’re too good a tempter. </em></p><p>“Ehh, I don’t really want to talk about it.” Aziraphale says nothing, but instead manages to radiate love and comfort and acceptance even more intensely. “I’m not supposed to like this sort of thing. I’m a demon, you know? The downfall of humanity and all that.” The Angel is now somehow radiating the smell of laundry warmed in the sun. “Damn it, Angel! I can’t keep anything from you! Argh! Stupid twinkling eyes. Stupid angelic love.” Crowley takes a deep breath and yells “I want it to be soft, Angel! I want to be taken care of! I want you to braid my hair and hold me in the bath and I want to be the little spoon. I want all that disgusting sweetness and I’m sorry. I’m sorry! Are you happy now?!”</p><p>“Why, yes, Crowley. I’m very happy!”</p><p>“What!? But-”</p><p>“There’s nothing wrong with that, dearest! I’m just sorry I didn’t give it all to you sooner. I would give you the world, Crowley, just like you would do for me. And I’m going to give you all the disgusting sweetness and softness you can possibly handle.”</p><p>“No, Angel. I was just, uh, kidding,” Crowley protests. “I don’t deserve that, Aziraphale. Don’t give it to me.”</p><p>Aziraphale moves closer and puts his hands on Crowley’s bony shoulders. “You deserve all of that, Crowley. You deserve it because of all the times you took care of me, rescued me, loved me so well. And you deserve it because of who you are, my dear. You deserve it because you are Crowley. My Crowley. I’m going to give it all to you.”</p><p>Feeble protest of “Nuh” and “No, angel, really” and “nghhh” quiet as Aziraphale pulls Crowley to him and tucks the demon under his chin. </p><p>“What do you want first?” Aziraphale rumbles. </p><p>“Nghr” Crowley responds.</p><p>“Hmm,” Aziraphale hums with a smile in his voice, “What about I preen your wings?”</p><p>Crowley  struggles to get out his words. “Erm Angel, I think that’s too, uh, much right now. ‘M sorry.”</p><p>“Oh, dear Crowley. Don’t worry! I’m sorry, I should have thought of that. What would you like, love?”</p><p>Maybe it’s Aziraphale calling him “love” or how Crowley finally feels completely warm in his arms or how they aren’t facing each other so Crowley can kinda believe he’s not actually saying this to Aziraphale, but Crowley thinks about it and then actually says what he’s thinking. </p><p>“Can, can we just stay here?”</p><p>“Oh, Crowley. You want to cuddle?”</p><p>“Hey, no! Absolutely not! ‘M a demon; I don’t cuddle,” Crowley turns around in Aziraphale's arms to half-heartedly sneers at the angel. </p><p>His angel just smiles and says, “Of course not, dear. No cuddling whatsoever. I’ll just hold you, hmm?”</p><p>Crowley rolls his eyes and grumbles “Acceptable, Angel. Barely, though.” </p><p>“Fair enough, dear boy.” Crowley smiles softly at the fondness in Aziraphale’s voice. “Just, uh, get comfortable, Crowley. And we can stay here as long as you possibly want, my love. I’ll just close my eyes and think about all the things we can do! Now that we are officially a couple and all that. So don’t worry about me, dearest.”</p><p>“Mm-hm.” Crowley murmurs as he shifts closer, bringing them chest-to-chest. He nuzzles into the side of Aziraphale’s neck, letting out a contented, slightly sleepy little hiss. He lets his limbs sprawl loosely, carelessly across Aziraphale and the rest of their bed. Crowley goes completely slack, as boneless as he really is. </p><p>A few months ago, Crowley would have hated himself for even imagining what is happening. But now, <em>now and in the future</em>, Crowley can have this. This love, this warmth, affection, attention. It’s almost too much. Too much and nowhere near enough. </p><p>Crowley closes his eyes even tighter, and trembles against the Angel. His breath warms Aziraphale’s skin in short, harsh intervals. Aziraphale slowly brings an arm up to Crowley’s back, and starts rubbing soft circles. Crowley groans and Aziraphale flushes the lightest pink. </p><p>
  <em>Oh, that’s good. So good. Aziraphale. Aziraphale. My angel. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please leave a comment if you liked it, didn't, or just want to talk. Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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